Thank You For The Venom
by edieslugbug
Summary: It looks as if there must be nearly ten drugaddicts surrounding me, most of which I know the names of. Mature situations and language. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

I'm not okay.

Trust me.

…

The picture came up about a week ago.

I don't know how it surfaced, but somehow everyone in school is now looking at a pleasant picture of me with bloodshot eyes, my top half off, and a bar behind me.

It looks as if there must be nearly ten drug-addicts surrounding me, most of which I know the names of.

There's Mark and Chris to the left, who are so fucked up it's not even to the point where I've been.

Then there's Jodie and Jake, who coincidentally both have names that start with the letter "J". Apparently they've been friends since freshman year, but who says they have enough sense to remember how long it's been?

There's Dahlia and Billy, who don't know each other at all, but have been sitting next to each other at the same bar for years doing who knows what.

Steven is reaching up Harper's skirt, he has a funny smile on his face that makes me laugh, and Harper is completely oblivious, because she is passed out. Her face is slumped onto some other girls shoulder, and her body is limp.

What the fuck were we thinking, anyway?

That it would be fun?

Well, it was.

But now what?

My best friends in the world are staring at me as if I'm a stranger who they haven't known for three years of college, and everyone else is avoiding me in the halls.

Fuck you.

As if you didn't have some crazy times in your past.

Maybe I had a little bit more of a crazy time.

But I cleaned it up. Right? A lot of people don't even bother to do that.

And I did.


	2. Chapter 2

I held you close as we both shook.

For the last time, take a good hard look.

…

It's been three years now. Three years without any drugs and only the occasional glass of wine.

No shirt ripping parties or sex-driven kids making out. No back rooms filled with a stash of drugs that's being ripped at and torn apart in a hungry attempt to satisfy cravings of a lost soul.

No bottles smashing on the floor, alcohol on my shoes, _vomit_ on my shoes, or mosh-pits that seem to just form into a huge pile of passed out kids.

Not for three years.

And I'm proud of that.

Why the hell did someone have to dig out those pictures?

It makes me not so proud anymore.

It makes me angry. It makes me feel guilty.

But most of all it makes me feel dirty.

I used to look at those kind of people and scoff because I _knew_ I wouldn't be like them.

I _knew_ that I was better than that, those homeless people living on the streets and talking to themselves, not because of schizophrenia, but because the drugs were creating new people.

Creating new worlds.

It's a thrill, being on drugs.

Everything feels so…

Different.

A rug that's normally just average feels exceptionally soft, or the smell of popcorn from the movie theater three blocks away smells like it's right next to you.

The taste of a strawberry is so unbelievably juicy and fresh and fruity and tangy and sweet all at the same time that it makes you laugh hysterically and roll around on the normally-average-but-now-exceptional carpet.

The kids that I've known since the beginning of college have turned against me. Now I'm a whore. A druggy. An alcoholic beast who can't think straight and who doesn't deserve to be spoken to.

These have been my friends for three years.

The friends that I went to my college parties with, where I politely turned down any alcohol other than one beer. The friends that helped me get used to school, since I hadn't been in one for four years. The friends that I depended on, especially in a time like this.

I needed them.

And I swear I'm going to find the bastard who dug up the pictures. And I'm not going to do anything violent, or kick and scream and whine. But I'll tell him, or her: You messed me up.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for the great reviews guys. I feel like this fanfiction is kind of going in the same direction (review wise, not plot wise) as Asylum, which was the one that got the most responses out of the ones I've written. You can still go check it out if you like. I'd be glad to see someone else likes it. And I realize that this chapter is a little bit softer than the other ones, not as...I don't know how to describe it. But you get it right? I'm feeling squishy right now. Hah. Whereas for the other two chapters I waited for the mood to come to me. Hope you like it. And just to disclaim the whole fanfic right now: I don't own Instant Star, any of the characters, or any songs by My Chemical Romance.

So give me all your poison.

And give me all your pills.

…

This isn't like me.

I don't do this.

But yet, here I am.

Doing what I don't do.

"Hi." I say before I even knock on his door. Just to…I don't know. Test out my voice?

Just to make sure it isn't all scratchy and hoarse.

I hope he didn't hear me say that. He'll probably think I'm insane.

The door opens and he's standing there in flannel pants and a white t-shirt.

"Hi." This time I say it to _him_, not the door.

"Um. Hi."

I look at the ground.

Then back up at him.

"Is there…a reason you're at my door at the moment?" He asks. He's trying to sound polite, but I don't mind, he's my best friend. He doesn't need to be polite.

"Yes. Are you going to let me in, or are we going to have the conversation in your doorway?" I smirk.

He smiles and pulls away from the door, leaving a gap for me to get through.

"The last time I saw you was when you were high as a kite. What's happened now?" He's concerned.

"People found pictures of me in…the dark ages." I use the name that we use to refer to the time when I was messed up.

"And…"

"And they're going around with some of my closest friends, what else?" I sit on his couch. Hey, it's a pretty comfy couch.

"Well…that's not you anymore, so if you know that then it won't take long for them to figure it out."

"Yeah." I sigh.

…

After seeing him I get back in my car and drive the hour and a half drive to get back to my college room.

I'm glad I went to see him. We had a good talk. And some cookies.

Shit.

It smells strongly like marijuana. Which is probably not something good for a has-been drug addict currently under stress.

I should probably turn around.

And go the other way, down the other street that leads to the college.

And avoid whatever place this is that has the smell of marijuana laying heavily on it.

And not be tempted.

I should turn around.

But I don't.


	4. Chapter 4

I never want to let you down.

Or have you go it's better off this way.

…

It's amazing.

Really. It is.

"Let's get fucked up and die." The man standing next to me says.

"That's a song." I say.

"I made it up."

"No you didn't." I retort. He glares at me.

"What's your name?" I ask him.

"King Henry the nine-hundredth and oneth." He laughs through his nose, so it comes out as a sort of snort.

We're silent for a minute.

"I haven't been this high in…I can't count."

"I haven't been this high for an hour." He laughs hysterically as if he's told the funniest joke in the world. Which he has. I join him in laughing. This guy is funny.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKK."

"YOU SOUND LIKE A CAT!!!" He comments.

"No I don't." I tell him. I hate cats. They smell bad and then when they do smell bad you can never wash them. Because they run away.

I should have run away.

Shit. I'm high.

I'm _high._

High as a mother fucking kite.


	5. Authors Note

Hi, there. Well, I know it's been a little while since my last update so I thought I should tell you all why. I started writing this story while I was listening to "I'm Not Okay" by My Chemical Romance. That song makes me kind of depressive and whatnot. But lately I've been happy (well, I'm usually happy) and for some reason that song is not getting me in the mood. The bad thing about this story is that I can only write when I'm not depressed but feeling dark, I guess? So, since I haven't been able to get all dark and dreary and stuff, I can't write until I do.

Otherwise the story would be crap. Which I'm sure it already is. Because honestly, I'm a very bad writer when it comes to knowing where my stories will go. I write as I go along. Anyway, there really is no excuse for just not updating for you guys, but I'm giving you an excuse.

There you go. I'm sorry, and I'll update as soon as I can get into that certain mood. Thanks for reading and for the reviews and hits and whatnot.

Edie.


	6. Chapter 6

Give Em Hell Kid.

…

And now I'm lying in my bed.

A week later, staring at the ceiling.

The phone rings, and I pick it up with a lazy hand, which belongs to my lazy body which has a lazy mind, and therefore my voice comes out as lazy.

I am a very profound person.

"Hello?" Says my lazy voice.

Which is lazy.

"Jude. Get up."

"Jamie, you need to get a life that doesn't involve trying to help me. I'm fine. Really. I promise."

"No you're not, now get up and go to class." He says to me. Since when is he my father?

Seriously. People need to work on their manners these days.

"How do you know I'm not in class already?"

"Because this is the phone that's connected to your dorm room. I'm not stupid, Jude."

"I am." Yes. It's true.

I'm an idiot, and my idiot city wants me back. They miss my laziness that benefited the idiotic city of idiots.

"I'm high." I laugh.

"Yes I'm aware. Get up and take a shower. Get dressed and do whatever you do to make yourself not high. Do you realize where you're going with this? You're just going to end up right where – "

"Bye." And I hang up.

Jamie's so annoying.

…

A/N: In case you hadn't noticed, I kind of just wrote random stuff on Jude's part of this chapter, due to the fact that she's high. Sorry for the wait, I had to get back in the loop. Enjoy.


	7. Chapter 7

So, come one, come all to this tragic affair.

Wipe off that make-up what's in is despair.

…

It's now two years later and I'm laying on my floor looking at a variety of pills in many different, bright, fun colors.

There's a blue one, and a pink one, and a few green ones. There's an orange one and some boring white ones.

Altogether, I know it's a lethal combination.

I could just end it right now. And just pop these pills into my mouth. I would never have to deal with the fact that I've lost everything: my education, my family, my friends, and the love of my life.

I don't even know why I'm thinking about him, really. I lost him years and years ago. I wonder where he is right now.

But Jamie I lost only recently. Eventually, he got fed up with my childish antics and just decided to leave. I know where he is right now, but I wouldn't dare go there. He pretty much hates me.

My family has been gone for years, as well. But they weren't completely gone until two years ago, when I got hooked again. Before I was just off at college, and they were waiting at home for me to come home on breaks. But now they don't wait for me to come home. They've forgotten that I exist, most likely.

Or maybe they still think about me sometimes. If they see a bum on the street, counting how many cracks there are in the sidewalk, they think of me for just a split second, but then they go on walking to the coffee shop, or the grocery store, or the mall. Wherever it is that normal people go these days.

Me? I sit on the floor of my apartment that's really not an apartment, but only a facsimile of a shack.

And look at my pills, which are all of the colors of the rainbow.

And I could end it right now if I wanted to.

Really, I could. I could swallow these pills in one big gulp, and never have to see the world again. No one would find me for weeks, I'm sure. So no one could pump the pills out and save my life.

I take all of them with one swallow of my orange juice from this morning, and then lay down on the carpet, waiting for it all to end.


End file.
